Tiger Stripes
by Zaney HacknSlash
Summary: Sequel for Black Hat, White Hat: in the morning, after helping a drunk Jack back to the caves, Sawyer has a change of heart about his interaction with the other survivors. Jack/Sawyer friendship; no pairings; Sawyer Centric


The sunlight tickled the back of his eyelids, waking him up. For a second, Sawyer didn't know where he was. He sat up quickly, looking around, saw that he was outside his tent, in the plane seat he'd converted into an EZ chair. He sighed. Even after a whole month he still wasn't used to waking up outside like this.

It was sort of a chilly morning—the sun looked like it was only seven or so. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up, and then lit a cigarette, taking a hit of nicotine to wake him up. Down the beach a little ways, Jin was catching some fish for breakfast, and then he'd probably go back to work on the raft with Mike.

No one else seemed to be up. Sawyer saw Charlie sitting up against a tree a few yards away. The Brit looked tired and excited at the same time.

With a sigh, Sawyer got up, stretching and taking a few steps.

The strange feeling from last night hadn't left him yet, and he was in a pretty good mood.

After getting a drunk Jack back to the caves last night, he'd walked along the beach for a while, thinking about some of the things Jack had said.

_…you're a good guy…_

Hearing that had bothered him. It could be only one of two things: either Jack had just been drunk and hadn't known what he was saying and therefore hadn't meant it, or Jack really thought that and just hadn't ever said anything about it.

A lot of people said what they really thought when they were drunk. They had no discretion when they were drunk.

It made Sawyer think he might have a chance.

He knew his whole life was more or less pointless. The only goal he'd ever made was to kill the man who'd murdered his parents. He'd dropped out of high school and become a criminal himself, and even his short-term goal of leaving the high life with lots of women and money was completely blacked out by the long-term goal of revenge. In that quest for vengeance he'd hurt people, he'd pushed them away, he'd destroyed lives, including his own. He deserved to be treated the way everyone treated him—with hatred and distrust and disrespect. It was only fair that they hate him when he acted the way he did.

But Sawyer had realized last night, after he'd half-carried half-dragged Jack back to the caves, and the Doc had given him a big, drunk hug and a wet kiss on the side of the head that he was tired of being hated. He was tired of not having friends. He was tired of being alone.

So he'd made up his mind.

Today was going to be different: he was going to put all his effort into building the raft. He was going to quit being an asshole. That might be hard, but he could do it if he tried. Today he was going to be decent. If not nice then at least decent. No asinine comments, no unnecessary put-downs. He didn't have to be Captain America right away, but he could at least take a step in the right direction.

In a lot of ways, whatever had been left back home in the real world didn't matter: the people he'd conned, the hearts he'd broken, the homes he'd ruined, even the man he'd killed, none of that was important here. He got a chance to be something different while he was here on this island. So far he'd blown that chance, had been just as big a jackass as ever before. But that could change. There was still time.

The first thing to do in the progression to becoming better was to go see Jack, see how his hangover was doing. Maybe if he acted more casual to Jack, the Doc would be less cold to him.

Sawyer put out his cigarette and headed up toward the caves, grabbing a bottle of aspirin as an afterthought. He'd just swing by to see how Jack was feeling, and then he'd head down to the raft, find out what Mike needed him to do.

On his way, he came across Hurley, who was kneeling on the ground under a tree, picking up fruit that had fallen. He grinned at him, "Well good mornin' sunshine."

"Uh," Hurley looked like he had absolutely no idea what to think. He probably thought Sawyer was going to insult him at any minute, or else steal the fruit he'd been working to gather, "hey…Dude…"

"What'cha' up to?"

The big man glanced back and forth, like he expected a trap to be sprung, "Nothin.' Just uh, you know…gettin' some food."

And now there should have been an eating joke, or a fat joke. But there wasn't one. Sawyer bit back the insults and the witty comments that came to mind and just walked pass, "All righty then, I'll leave ya' to it."

"Right. Uh. See ya' later, Dude."

The long walk to the caves seemed to go by quickly as he thought about what he was going to say, and as he got closer Sawyer started to feel uneasy. It was a bold move to think he could just saunter in and say whatever the hell he felt like and expect Jack to get it. Just because Jack had been drunk last night didn't mean that he cared about a southern jerk like Sawyer. It didn't mean he was going to want to be buddies.

Sawyer almost turned around and went back to the beach, but he forced himself to keep going. He wouldn't jump right on the friendship agenda. He'd just start by simply…thanking Jack…for the thing with the headaches. That seemed good enough. Decent, but not overwhelming. Later maybe he'd apologize or something…for being an ass…or whatever. Then, in a few days, when this thing with Boone was behind them…then he'd tell Jack. He'd just look at him and say it, "You're about the closest thing I've got to a friend."

And if Jack was any kind of decent human being he'd respect that.

Sawyer hesitated at the mouth of the caves, heart shuddering. Why the hell did he feel so nervous?

He'd never done anything like this before: apologizing, showing gratitude, admitting to emotions. It wasn't his way.

One last time, he thought about just going back to the beach and forgetting this, but then he saw Jack, kneeling there, rummaging through his medical supplies, and Jack noticed him.

"You need something?" The doctor's voice was tense and a little cold.

Sawyer took a deep breath, then walked in, "Well nice ta' see ya' too, Doc."

No, no. That wasn't what he'd meant to say. Sarcasm was not a great way to start.

But Jack didn't seem to notice, he was still digging through his bag, looking for who knew what.

Sawyer glanced up at Kate, who was sitting nearby, looking haggard, "Hey there, Freckles. Where were ya' all night?"

Kate forced a smile, "Delivering a baby."

Sawyer stared at her, "Ya' don't say. So, I'm guessin' Croc Hunter Claire got her little bundle o joy last night, huh?"

Jack snapped, "Know any other pregnant girls."

Sawyer just shrugged, "Just makin' conversation, Doc."

"Is there something, you want, Sawyer?" The doctor looked up at him, his face betraying irritation.

The question threw him off, and Sawyer had to think a moment about what he did want. He glanced up at Kate again, started to say something, but stopped. "How's your head?"

That only seemed to agitate Jack more, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Fine."

"Right. Fine. Ya' polished off my whole bottle o scotch an' ya' think your head is fine?"

Jack got up, looking sort of angry, "It wasn't your scotch. Now can I help you with something or can I get back to work?"

The doctor's harsh voice and disdainful words made it apparent that everything he'd said last night had just been a result of drunkenness. "So much for 'you're a good guy, Sawyer." The con artist muttered.

"What?"

"Nothin'…"

Jack looked ready to say more.

"Well, see ya' later, Doc." Sawyer started to leave, not looking at Kate as he went. He knew she'd notice the anger in his eyes if they exchanged so much as a glance.

"That's all? You came all the way up here for that?"

Sawyer paused to grab a bottle of fresh water, "Came ta' get a drink. That okay with you?" Then he kept walking.

Jack looked at him a moment, and then he went back to digging for whatever.

"What are you looking for?" Kate asked, drifting closer.

"Just some aspirin. I've got a little bit of a head ache."

Gritting his teeth, Sawyer dug into his pocket for the aspirin he'd brought, and then stopped again, "Hey, Jack,"

The frustration on Jack's face was completely unadulterated when he looked up, "What is it?"

Sawyer took one look at that annoyed, contemptuous face, shook his head, smirking a little. Let the doc's head ache all day for all he cared. What as waste of time. Trying to be nice. Overrated as hell. "Never mind."

All the way back to the beach Sawyer muttered curses under his breath and said nasty things about Jack, and about himself. To think he'd just wanted to make everything right. What the hell was he thinking? People like him didn't just wake up one day and change their stripes. He should have known better: after everything he'd done why would Jack, or anyone else, forgive him? He didn't deserve to be forgiven. He deserved to be hated until the day he was gone and no one came to his low budget, state-paid funeral.

And that asshole Jack could take himself home next time he got drunk.

He passed Hurley on his way back to the beach.

"Dude, check it out, did you hear? Claire-"

"Don't care."

"What? But, Dude, I thought-"

Sawyer stopped to glare at him, "I _said_ I don't care. I don't care about any of this."

"Dude…you all right?"

"Just leave me the hell alone, Sasquatch." He stomped forward, taking a drink from the water bottle as he went.

Hurley yelled after him, "Dude, what the hell is your problem?" Then he mumbled, "Bipolar freak."

Sawyer went back to his tent. To hell with the raft. To hell with helping. He'd bought his place on it, now he just had to wait for Mike and Jin to finish it. He wished they'd hurry up. He was sick of being on this island, sick of knowing everyone, of being tempted to care about the others and their problems. He wanted off, to go back to his old life of conning and stealing and heart breaking. Back to revenge. There was nothing on this island worth staying for.

He took another drink as he stood there, watching the waves roll in and then out. They just made him all the angrier, a visible reminder that he was stuck here with all these people who hated him.

Furious, he chucked the bottle a few feet. The plastic cracked and water sprayed everywhere. Sawyer flopped back in his chair, cursing.

This was all that asshole Jack's fault.

"Jackass." He sighed, and lit another cigarette.

Several minutes later, Jack came down from the jungle, pack on his shoulders. Probably just making his rounds.

Sawyer glanced at him, and then at the sun. It was still too early for that. Jack started making his rounds about ten or so. It wasn't even eight yet.

The doctor was heading right for him.

Sawyer groaned. "If you're here for my aspirin ya' can forget it."

"I'm not here for the aspirin." Jack assured him when he had arrived.

"Then what the hell d'ya' want, Jack? I'm a busy man."

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow, "You're busy?"

"Yes sir, just so happens I am."

"Look, Sawyer," Jack sighed, "I just came to tell you…well, I guess you probably know I was pretty drunk last night. I don't remember very much about it, but…I know you were there."

"I ran inta' ya'." Sawyer admitted half-heartedly. Why was it that just when he had decided to put the whole ordeal out of mind Jack had to come back, bringing it up?

"I wanted to apologize." Jack said at length.

"Apologize?"

The doctor nodded, "For whatever I said to you last night. I can't remember it but…whatever it was, I'm sorry."

Sawyer studied him for a moment, trying to rationalize his way through this, "Ya' think ya' hurt my _feelings_?" He wasn't sure what to think of that. Part of him was miffed that Jack would think _he_ could possibly hurt his feelings. And at the same time, it staved the anger a little to recognize that Jack's hidden message was that he cared that he might have hurt his feelings.

"I don't know. I can't remember what I said," Jack rubbed his head, "but…Boone had just…and…and I'm sort nasty when I get drunk like that…you caught me when I was…sort of in a bad mood. And if I took any of that out on you…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Sawyer still wasn't sure what to say. Obviously Jack couldn't remember the first thing about last night. But he wasn't going to correct him.

"Never mind, Doc."

"No, I'm serious. Whatever I said to you last night, just forget it. Please."

With a sigh, Sawyer nodded, "Yeah…yeah, all right."

For an awkward moment, Jack stood there, and then he nodded back and turned to leave, stopped like he had just remembered something, "One more thing, Sawyer."

"What's that?"

"Thanks…I'm sure the last thing you wanted to do was take an angry drunk doctor home…"

So he had remembered that part…

"Just forget it."

Jack looked at him for a while, and just before Sawyer could tell him to, for the last time forget about it, he said, "You know…I don't think you're as bad a guy as you pretend to be."

That practically knocked the wind out of Sawyer. The shock was so great-to hear Jack say almost the exact same thing he had the night before, only sober this time-took the words right out of his mouth, and he fumbled for a reaction.

But there wasn't one. He was just too floored.

And Jack started to leave again.

"Hey, wait a minute, Doc." Sawyer got up.

"What?"

Sawyer tossed the bottle of aspirin to him, "For your head."

The doctor looked down at it, "I thought you said-"

"Changed my mind."

The expression in his eyes was sincere when Jack looked up again, "Thanks, Sawyer."

"Yeah…well…you know…"

The con artist watched him walk away, feeling more confused and more unsure of himself than ever.

Of course, things never worked out the way he expected them to.

Friends or no friends…maybe he had the potential to…maybe if he just tried he could…if Jack could tell he wasn't as bad as he pretended to be, then maybe other people could sense that too. Maybe they'd be willing to give him a second chance…a third chance. Whatever it was he needed. Probably more like a tenth or fifteenth chance.

Jack was a doctor after all. Weren't they supposed to be all caring and whatever? A man who could apologize for something he thought he _might_ have done-for nothing really-why shouldn't he be able to forgive?

"Naw," Sawyer sighed.

"Tiger don't change his stripes…"


End file.
